Losing My Religion
by LaCroixWitch
Summary: When Dean sends human Castiel away, the ex-angel is forced to try to make it on his own. With limited funds and limited skills, he does what he has to in order to survive. He just wants to make Dean proud of how he can hold his own. Based on the song "Losing My Religion" by R.E.M "That's me in the corner, that's me in the spotlight, losing my religion"


**Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Supernatural, from the characters to the songs played while driving around in the impala. If I owned anything, Sam would always have painted fingernails.**

"Cas, you know I wouldn't make you do this if I didn't have to-" Dean says as he puts his hand on Cas' shoulder. The look in Castiel's now human eyes was heartbreaking. He had just begun to appreciate the nuances of humanity- food, sex, even the habit of urination, and all he wanted to do was enjoy his newfound humanity with the brothers who always made him feel more human- the Winchesters.

"It's alright, Dean. I trust that you know what you are doing. You always do." Castiel's eyes dropped down to the side, realizing it was much more difficult to conceal his human emotions. Picking up his duffel bag, he looked Dean in the eyes.

Dean met Cas' gaze and put his hand on Castiel's shoulder."Call me, Cas, when you get to wherever you're going?" Dean's face was serious, making Castiel feel self conscious of his precariously swelling emotions. Dean's hand was heavy, as if trying to keep him here despite Dean's words. Castiel returned the gesture and Dean pulled him in, giving him a hearty pat on the back. Castiel had remained in this hug a second too long, and awkwardly stepped back, face resolute.

"I will, Dean. Goodbye"

But Castiel didn't call.

* * *

Castiel left the bunker with a tear in his eye and only the contents of his bag to his name. He took a moment to look up at the sky- the same sky his brothers and sisters had fallen from, not too long ago by his own hand. But this time, he didn't see that pain; the sky seemed to lay out a world of endless opportunity right before him. Everything seemed so vast- so intricate, and he wanted to just drink in all the wonders humanity had to offer. He couldn't let this get to him. No longer immortal, each minute was precious. He wanted to turn around and run back into the bunker and refuse to leave. He wanted to eat microwaved burritos and carry out with Dean and Sam forever. He wanted to laugh at Dean everytime he ran around the bunker in his bathrobe, swinging around his ninja sword, which of course was a daily activity.

He pressed his fingers to his temples and took a deep breath; a futile attempt to clear his racing human mind. _I'll get a job, a house, maybe meet a girl, drive a car. I'll buy groceries and read newspapers, decorate Christmas trees and pay taxes. It'll be so beautifully simple, and I can finally have true free will-_ Cas stopped for a moment- Isn't that what he'd always truly wanted- free will? Staring at the open road before him, free will seemed to be the only option ahead of him. A faint smile came across Castiel's face and he desperately tried to remain positive.

For a while, he walked alongside the road, looking at each car that passed him wishing it was that '67 Impala he had grown to love. When he still had his wings, it was much harder for him to appreciate and understand how much that car meant to Dean. Flying was so much faster, but even then he still enjoyed a ride with his friends. The tan leather seats, the slightly musky smell, the rumble of the engine- he never knew how much he would miss those things. As another car rushed past, this time splashing the remnants of a puddle on the bottom of Cas' jeans, he would have given anything to be in the backseat of that car again. He kept on walking, his feet growing more tired and his bag growing heavier, moving onward to some unknown destination.

Night had already fallen before Castiel realized he was cold. He should have taken a bus. A small town was a few miles ahead though, its dull glowing street-lights making a halo in the distance. His breath making a constant cloud of smoke in front of him, he crossed his arms to keep warm. Alone in the darkness, his cheeks stung a bit and his lips were chapped, but until this moment he had never felt more alive- more mortal. The town was drawing nearer, and the glow of a motel's neon sign was now visible, and relief swept across Cas' face as he saw that it read 'Vacancy'. He quickened his pace and wondered if the credit card Dean had given him would actually work. Castiel did not trust credit card scams.

* * *

A small frown crossed Cas' face as he paid for the room. This was his first time staying in a motel without Sam and Dean.

"Single or Double?" asked a young woman as she chewed too loudly on a piece of gum. She gave Cas a good look up and down, checking him out. She smiled. This made Castiel uncomfortable.

"It's just me, thank you" Castiel awkwardly shifted his weight and averted his gaze. The last thing he wanted to think about right now was flirtatious women. And then he thought of Dean. Dean would have flirted with the woman, a little too obnoxiously even. Castiel was always upset by how easy Dean was, bedding women in each city they visited and never really giving a thought to love, or how the act of intercourse could ever have more meaning. Maybe Cas was that easy too- a few nights on his own and he had already thrown himself at that reaper. In that moment, he had felt like Dean- masculine and powerful. And out of all the people to be like, Dean Winchester was one of the best. Castiel heard a snapping sound. He had been staring off into the distance letting his internal monologue wander. The woman was snapping her fingers at him, holding his credit card and trying to get his attention. Castiel was flustered.

"Uh.. thank you...mam" Cas muttered awkwardly, turning quickly around and leaving the motel office. He walked down a cracked sidewalk, trying to avoid the bugs that swarmed around each yellow light that flanked the stucco exterior walls. Finally, he found the room that matched the number on the worn metal key. Unlocking the door, he plopped down on the bed. Foreboding mirrors on the ceiling reminded Castiel of the den of iniquity Dean once took him to to lose his virginity. His angelic grace made it difficult to want sexual things- but nevertheless he still had some thoughts. But now, as a human, Castiel found his mind almost consumed by inappropriate thoughts. Hormones were rushing and his instincts kicking in. He liked this lack of control, but it terrified him at the same time. Looking up into the mirrors, Castiel wondered what Dean would do in this situation.

 _Dean would be downing a bottle of whiskey and looking at skin mags._ Thought castiel reminiscently. Rolling over on his side, Castiel realized he was too restless to sleep. Castiel slowly sat back up, ran his hand through his hair went into the bathroom. Splashing some cold water on his face, he took a good look at himself. He seemed so much older than he had when he had first taken this form a few years back. Small wrinkles sat in the corners of his eyes and dark circles hung underneath. Did he need a haircut? It was hard to tell- Castiel still had a hard time judging these human things. He would not, however, let his situation get as bad as Sam's.

Flicking off the bathroom light, Cas grabbed the remote and turned on the small motel television. A few minutes went by as Cas just stared blankly at the glowing screen, surfing the channels.

The channel then suddenly landed on porn- Casa Erotica 4 to be exact. Castiel watched for a few moments until he realized his brother Gabriel was in it. He quickly changed the channel to the late night news and tried his best to forget what he had seen. Eventually, his eyes grew tired and he fell asleep- still clothed, remote in hand.

He woke up to the sound of the television, now tuned to the morning news. According to the digital clock next to the bed, it was 7:30 am and the notepad next to it read "Beloit Motel- Beloit Kansas". So he was still in Kansas; he wondered how far he had made it from Lebanon and the bunker he had been forced to leave. Heaving his tired body out of bed, he could feel just how stiff his muscles had become, his feet sore. He rummaged through his duffel, retrieving his soap and shampoo.

The shower head squealed, straining to let the water flow through it. Not as warm as Castiel would like, but it would do. He lathered up his hair and cleaned off all the dirt from yesterday's long journey. He put one hand against the tile shower wall and turned his head up at the shower head. Letting the water run down his face, he tried his best to let himself relax. He could feel every droplet of water hit his face, feel it run down his chin and onto his chest. He tried not to let his mind wander- to just relax in this moment of human sensation, but the memories started creeping in. Memories of the look in Dean's eyes when he found him in hell, memories of the day when Sam pulled Lucifer and Michael into the pit, when Dean needed his comfort more than ever. There were simple memories too, of riding in the impala and stopping at diners. Memories of going on hunts and even memories of that old, worn trench coat. Castiel realized what they all amounted to- his own, free will formed, human identity. He had, unknowingly, already made a life for himself here on Earth, only for him to be exiled from it. To be told he can't stay.

It was at this point that Castiel noticed that it wasn't only the shower water beading down his skin anymore, tears streaming down his face. Exhaling deeply, he turned off the shower head and just stood there, listening to the water drip to the tile of the shower floor, trying to regain his composure.

This attempt was disrupted by the sound of Castiel's stomach, growling and empty. Quickly drying off, he walked back into the bedroom and put on his only clean change of clothes. He could feel his hair stuck to the front of his face, so he he whisked a comb through his wet hair. He returned to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, taking a good look at himself one last time before starting the day. He realized that this body was no longer his vessel, his body was an extension of himself. Without his grace, this was his true form, and something inside of him lit up at this realization.

Grabbing his keys, Cas left his motel room and began his search for sustenance. In the light of day, he got a better grasp of his surroundings. The motel was located off a small side street from the main road, next to what appeared to be a not-so nice Mexican restaurant. The landscape was a flat expanse, and just a bit off in the distance Castiel could see a cluster of buildings looking like the town center. He followed the road in that direction, small houses flanking the side of the road. Not many cars passed by- if nothing else it was very quiet and peaceful here.

Eventually, he came upon a small restaurant. The small sound of a bell radiated through the small space as he opened the door, a kindly older woman coming up to greet him.

"Good morning honey, have a seat and let me bring you some coffee"

Before Castiel could even protest, he was seated at a small, comfortable table and a steaming cup of coffee was being placed in front of him. Her name tag read "Missouri" , and handed him a menu and asked him if he needed a few minutes. Nodding his head hesitantly, he read over the menu. What do people usually eat for breakfast? The section labeled "Breakfast" seemed like a good place to start. He'd seen Dean order pancakes and sausage hundreds of times, so Castiel settled on the same. But he was so hungry- he wanted to try everything.

He must have looked gaunt, because as the waitress wrote down the order, she said "That all? Sure you don't want anything else?" Her eyes looked right through his calm facade, as if she knew he was on the run, on his own for the first time. Castiel, a little flustered, eyes as round as the pies which lined the long glass display, said the only thing he could think of -

"What do you recommend?"

"For someone as skinny as you? I'll get you a nice cheese omelette and a piece of pie. Nice cup of juice too, you're knocking on death's door boy"

"I'll take all of that too then"

When the food came, steaming with a sticky sweet aroma, Castiel actually felt his mouth begin to water. He grabbed his fork and knife and ate as if he'd never eaten before. Well, he really hadn't eaten all too many times before, so his palate wasn't all too difficult to please. All the flavors, the warm and buttery goodness, the sweetness of the pie, it helped him forget his sadness. As he sat there and ate his feelings, he looked up and noticed a sign he hadn't seen before he came in. The "CASH ONLY" sign taunted him, making him realize the scammed credit card Dean had given him was of no use there. He had to think fast- what happens when you can't pay?

Sweat dotting his brow and heart racing, Castiel's eyes darted around looking desperately for an escape. Once, in a tv show, he remembers seeing someone do dishes because they couldn't pay. But knowing TV is different from reality, he figured he would just get arrested. The front door was too obvious, they would see him leave. For a brief moment he contemplated honesty- promising he'd go to an ATM, get the money and come back. But humans aren't that trusting- he was just a strange drifter in a small town. His eyes land on the bathroom door- that had the potential of being discreet. Was this what he had fallen to, though? Once an angel of the Lord, now sneaking into bathrooms, trying to thieve his way through a town. He felt dirty, but he had little other choice.

Making his best attempt to look natural, Cas brushed the crumbs off his lap and folded his napkin next to his plate. He left a few bites of pie on the plate, enough for it to look like he was going to come back to finish it. Taking a deep breath, he rose from his seat and headed towards the door with the ambiguous figure of a man etched into a plastic sign. Inside, the bathroom looked as if it was untouched by time. Aged green tiles lined the walls, old sinks clung to the walls, with clouded mirrors perched above them. But he was looking for a window.

This was not Castiel's most well-thought-out plan. He didn't consider that bathrooms wouldn't have very large windows. He often forgets that humans are very particular about their privacy.

 _A soft wing-flap announced Castiel's entry into the bathroom. He had important things to discuss with Dean- about the apocalypse, about heaven, about destiny. But if he was honest with himself, which the angel rarely was, he was really here at this hour because he wanted to see Dean._

" _Cas, we've talked about this. Personal space?"_

 _Castiel took a few steps back. He was incredibly confused by the fact that someone who he once gripped from the flames of heaven, his hand clutching his tattered soul, would feel any amount of closeness overbearing. Castiel felt this profound bond with Dean- every time he looked at him he could still feel his soul in his hand. But Dean didn't feel this, because he didn't remember. Dean would never feel the way Castiel did- the immense and trusting bond of friendship. So there Castiel stood, the steam of the bathroom pouring into the motel room as Dean walked out._

" _My apologies"_

Castiel didn't realize he had been standing in the bathroom for almost 20 minutes. He was gripping the sides of the sink, his knuckles white. Castiel kept losing track of his thoughts- they consumed him, controlled him. And they were about to get him into a lot of trouble. He tried to remember what's a normal amount of time to spend in a restroom. He knows he's probably been in here too long. The waitress would, if she hadn't already, start to get suspicious soon. Finally walking over to the small window, he wondered if he would fit. The window was about shoulder height, and around a foot and a half tall by two feet wide. Eyeing it cautiously, he climbed up on one of the skinks and shimmied his way through. He had underestimated the size of his butt.

Castiel wondered how this would look to an outsider, his head and torso sticking out of a diner window. He couldn't afford to be caught, especially not like this, so he pushed and wriggled his torso, trying to free his posterior from the grasp of the window pane. As he shoved harder, he was suddenly released, and he tumbled, face-forward, into the concrete alley below. His chin hit the ground hard, and as he put his hands on the ground and pushed himself up, a drop of cherry-colored blood fell onto the pavement. He watched as it spread out onto the ground- its once circular and defined spot becoming something much more jagged and messy. It was at this point, he realized that he should probably start walking away- or running.

 _Running might draw too much attention to myself._ Castiel thought as he swiftly walked across the alley and through a small corridor that led to the other side of this small town's desolate center. There were not enough people here- he would be too easy to notice. He began to walk back towards the highway, figuring that maybe he wouldn't be followed once he left town. He tried to be fast, yet inconspicuous. Houses with green yards and picket fences rushed by, a dog barked, the sun began to make his dark hair feel almost too warm. Hopefully, he had not left anything in the motel room, because he was in too much of a rush to go back. Material possessions were burdensome, slowing him down, hurting his back. But in this form, mortal and needy, they were necessary for his survival. Adjusting the strap on his duffel to ease his burdens, Castiel finally reached the freeway. Thankfully, the town had been small and even crossing the entire thing did not take very long.

Today was much warmer than his previous road-traversing days had been, and if he pushed down and internalized the terrible emotions he was feeling, he actually almost found it pleasant. Castiel wanted so badly to enjoy this human life- to feel the sun on his skin and smile as if he had never been an angel, as if he had never eaten all of those souls, as if he hadn't been a part of the apocalypse. But he had done all of those things- and the memories would remain forever. He would always be tied to the Winchesters- the boys who started it all, the boys who taught him that humanity was worth saving- the boys who made him feel alive. They were a family-at least that was what Dean used to tell Cas. But right now they didn't feel like family. Cas knows that he could reach into his pocket and grab the cheap cell phone Dean had given him and dial Dean's number. He could beg for Dean to come get him, or he could even lie and say he was doing alright. But even just hearing Dean's voice would be too painful for Castiel to bear, and walking alongside the road in an unfamiliar place, the last thing he could afford was to have his emotions overtake him again.

As cars passed, some slowed down and their passengers gawked at the dirty, sunburned man with a gash on his chin and a large bag tossed across his back. Castiel felt the eyes of these passerby cut through him, as if he didn't exist, as if he was just an example of what happens when you go down the wrong roads in life. In reality, he wasn't as bad off as he looked- he still had a working credit card, a cell phone, all of his belongings, but he looked as if he had been living on the streets for weeks. Stubble grew outwards from his jawline, growing darker and thicker by the hour, his hair on top his head sat in a greasy, tousled mess. After walking all day in the direction of a highway sign that read "Salina, KS" Castiel found what could only be an intervention by God. A Greyhound Bus depot.

Stark fluorescent lights dotted the underbelly of the roof, which housed massive busses, looming and untelling, surrounded by the calm dark night. Castiel approached the door of the depot, a musty smell greeting him as he entered. He stood back, staring for a minute at the list of destinations, times, and prices. Castiel felt a quick rush of joy as he realized all the places he could go, all the freedom he had, all the chances to start over. But this hope was crushed by the bleak reality that he'd have to start over alone. He could feel the emotions building, his face hot and moisture welling in his eyes. Before he lost control of himself, he stepped up to the dirty counter.

"What do you want, son", barked a man, smelling of tobacco, saliva, and day-old sweat. Castiel could smell the open bottle of liquor stashed under the counter. The entire situation was making Cas nervous- his people skills were bad enough when people were pleasant. But this man was far from pleasant. He most definitely did not want to make this man mad by being indecisive. In a somewhat rushed moment of decision making, Castiel replied-

"One ticket to San Antonio please."

"That bus leaves in two minutes boy, bus five, you gon have to run. " he spat a stream of brown liquid into a bottle that had been under the counter. "Twenty five."

Castiel pushed his credit card across the counter, heart racing as he hoped that it would be approved. He sighed in relief as the card was handed back to him. He thanked the cashier and swiftly left towards bus five. Despite it's approaching arrival, there was no one else on the bus, save a driver sleeping at the wheel. Castiel could see that he had an alarm set to go off in a minute, to signal the end of his nap. Cas picked a seat in the back, near the window. Putting his things down in the seat next to him, he sat down and tried to make himself comfortable for the long ride ahead. He had no idea how long the trip would be, or if there would be any stops. Not a clue as to what time it was, or what he would do once he arrived. For a moment, everything was quiet, everything was uncertain. But as the driver's alarm sounded, and the engine roared to life, Castiel knew that despite the uncertainties, he would just have to make it somehow.

Any trace of residual sunlight had completely left the sky, and stars appeared above in the open sky. As the bus headed south, Castiel grew tired. When he still had his grace, he could have flown to anywhere he had wanted on earth in a matter of seconds. The andes, the rainforest, the great wall of china, a beach in the caribbean. He could make a fast escape, he would never have to worry about sleep, food money, or his safety. He could run from his sadness forever, if his angelic self would even feel such things. Everything was easy then, following orders and doing God's will- but now somehow he had come to this- sitting on a bus in the middle of the night, drinking a warm water bottle from his bag, and wondering how he'd even survive the next week. He felt as if the holiness was seeping from his pores everyday, taking him that much farther away from the God who didn't care anymore. During his brief dance with humanity, he had already copulated, lied, and stolen. Somehow, he has managed to fall even further. As he contemplated all of these things, his brain decided that he needed rest. His eyes drifted shut, the rumble of the bus engine lulling him to sleep.

* * *

 _A decadent smell of bacon permeates the air. Warm sheets surround his relaxed body when Castiel opens his eyes. Stretching his arms he turns over in bed, towards the light. There's a warm imprint in the sheets next to where he was laying, still warm. Swinging his legs over to get out of bed, his feet immediately hit a soft pair of slippers. He realizes he is only wearing underwear._

 _He walks to the kitchen, but the walk there is hazy. The kitchen is full of light, with big windows looking out to a garden. Standing at the stove is arguably the most beautiful thing Castiel has ever seen. Strong muscular shoulders lead down to a perfectly arched lower back. He feels embarrassed as he admires the perfectly sculpted ass of the man, clad in tight black boxer briefs. As his eyes continue to travel downward, he is met with marvelously toned legs, leading down to a pair of bare feet on the tile floor. Once his eyes travel that far, he sees the feet turn, his gaze jumping up to the face which accompanies that gorgeous body._

 _It is Dean. Dean Winchester, standing in the kitchen, cooking bacon and pancakes. Flipping them one by one, and placing them on a plate next to the stove._

' _Goodmorning, angel' Dean says, his green eyes glistening as he places one hand on Castiel's cheek and the other around his waist. He pulls him into a sweet, chaste kiss. Cas finds himself going in for a second kiss, this one much more passionate. Slow, wanting, happy._

' _You better calm yourself if you don't want burned pancakes' Dean laughs and a warm, loving smile crosses his face. He turns back to the stove. But in what seems like an instant, all traces of breakfast are gone, and they are back in the bedroom, laying in bed, with a lethargy most likely produced from such a heavy breakfast. Dean wraps Castiel up in his arms, and they drift back to sleep. He has never felt this comfortable, safe, and loved._

 _But before Cas entirely drifts off, the scene changes entirely. Deans strong arms around him become chains, wrapped around his torso. The warm, welcoming bed becomes a cold, soggy jail cell, rats darting across the old stone floors. Dean stands outside the cell. His face, cold and unfeeling, he locks the door and walks away. Everything quickly goes dark. As dark as the black eyes that Castiel swears he sees peering out of Dean's beautiful face._

* * *

Castiel jolts awake. Heaves of breath flood out of his lungs, tattered and broken.

"Mister, what's wrong?" a tiny voice calls to him. Looking around the cabin, he sees that the bus has clearly made a few stops since he drifted off, taking on a considerable number of passengers. It was also now daylight. A small boy is seated next to him, his feet dangling in the air above the floor, legs to short to reach the ground. The child is perched on the edge of his seat, eyes wide and face tilted towards the fallen angel. Castiel realizes he should probably respond to the child's question. Having no idea how to talk to children, Castiel makes his best attempt.

"It was just a nightmare" Castiel doesn't ignore the pleasant parts of the dream, but surely that would not be appropriate to talk to a child about.

"About what" a bell-like meter to the child's voice pushes on for more answers.

"About… about someone who I care about very much leaving me and hurting me."

"Who was it, a girl? Your dog?"

"No, it was.. he is my best friend."

"Then why isn't he here now" The child looked honestly confused. In his innocent mind, people who were friends stuck together. He had little understanding of how things can go awry in the world. Castiel was beginning to become flustered. Soon, he wouldn't be able to answer the child's questions. He absolutely couldn't tell the truth. This child did not deserve the burdens of knowing about the existence of the supernatural. But Castiel did not want to lie to a child. What kind of example would that be? A once angel of the lord, lying to children?

A woman reached across the aisle.

"Jimmy, please stop bothering that poor man, he was trying to get rest."

"Oh, no miss, it's alright. I was awake anyway" Jimmy- the name brings up so many memories. Jimmy- Jimmy Novak- husband to Amelia Novak, father to Claire Novak. But this child is nothing like the willing and obedient man who, not so long ago donated his body to the holy cause. Castiel saw an innocence in this child- a curious drive- and realized that maybe Mr. Novak had been more like a child after all- just doing what he thought his father had wanted. He might not have had the long shaggy hair like a young child, but behind the suit and trenchcoat, the holy tax accountant had been just as naive.

But he wasn't really using Jimmy's vessel anymore- his soul was not repressed by Castiel. Somewhere, up in heaven, hopefully, Jimmy was finally free. This body was just a weakening shell, made just to hold Castiel's no-longer existent grace.

Castiel was zoning out again. It was making Jimmy's mom uncomfortable. The bus had arrived, and she quickly got up and left.

* * *

Cas stuck behind a little to create some distance between himself and the mother and child. Shuffling off the bus, he made his way to the ticket counter to try to get some information about where he was. This bus depot dwarfed the one in Salina. The lines of busses seemed to go on for miles. When he finally reached the information desk, he was greeted this time by a much friendlier face than the man with the brown spit cup.

Her dark hair was puffed high on her head, smelling strongly of hair spray, and he noticed a few stray pieces of glitter somehow folding their way into the mountainous coiffure. She had purple glittery eyeshadow extending far out from her eyes, seemingly all the way to her eyebrows, and the glitter found it's way underneath her thick eyelashes, dusting her dark mocha cheeks. Her lips were painted bold and plump, coated in a bright pink lipstick. Her whole face was intimidating but exciting, and her big smile made Cas feel safe.

"How can I help you hot cheeks" She articulated the statement with a wave of her pointy-manicured hands, the bedazzled nails somehow managing to glitter in the horrendous yellow lighting.

"Um hello mam. Do not worry, I can assure you that my cheeks are the correct body temperature. " She let out a loud, friendly cackle, but he furrowed his brow in confusion, giving up on trying to understand this exchange.

"I need a uhh… map of san antonio, please"

"Ah a first timer, and all alone too. Honey this is a rough city to manage alone, but don't worry, I gotcha'. Plus it's 4 in the morning, I have nothing but time. You know, I came here just like you once, from a small town, running from my parents. Anyway, there's a motel next to the bus depot, but you're gonna want to get the frick out of this neighborhood as fast as you can, it's full of crack dealers and cheap hookers. You're going to get you're cute butt into the 96 bus - oh here gimme your card, I'll get you a 2 week bus pass to start out - " She snapped his card out of his hands and swiped it through the machine. "The stop is down there to the right, you can't miss it. Oh but back to places to stay, you'll get off the 96 in five stops and you'll go on over to the Lone Stardust Motel. I know the lady who owns the place, you'll be in good company. Good diner across the street too.

"Is it uh, cash only" Castiel did not want a repeat of the window hopping incident, but he was also realizing this was a question this bus stop employee may not know the answer to.

"Of course not boo, what year is it, 1947?"

"No it's 201-"

"H-O-N-E-Y, stay focused, you gotta take care of yourself here. Those pretty blue puppy dog eyes will only get you so far. So get yourself a hot meal. There's a good thrift shop around the corner, it looks like you're packing light. That's where I got all my stuff when I started out. And before you ask, yes they take card. The owner of the motel, Sharona will help you out, find a job, I'm sure "Mr. Levi Jenkins" that that card won't work forever. She's always had a soft spot for strays, if you stay on her good side." At this point she was leaning her head on her hand, and her bubbly eyes looked a bit distant, like she was stuck in her past.

"Why are you telling me all of this? Why are you so kind? I don't deserve your kindn-"

"Sugar, we have all been there at some point. Down, out, alone and thrown out. I'm sure the boy who kicked you to the curb is to blame? Same for me babe. But I made it. You will too"

Cas fidgeted nervously. Was she implying that Dean was his…. No that's ridiculous. Did he look like he would have a boyfriend? He didn't particularly care, but in Texas that might cause him issues down the line. He would look into this later.

"Oh shoot, I never told you my name did I? I'm Terana, Terana Jazze. Make sure you mention that to Sharona. What's your name angel?"

Angel- how did she- oh he forgot, it was a term of endearment. Should he lie? He probably should have thought about this by now. Panicking, he came up with a quick and easy response.

"Cas. My name is Cas." Her eyes squinted and she tilted her head.

"Cas? Like Cassie? Castle? Casserole? Casanova? " She winked and Castiel did not know how to respond. It did not seem like a flirtation. None of her terminology came off as flirtatious somehow.

"Um it is short for Casper. Alex Casper. But all my… friends… call me Cas"

"Well, ghost boy, I hope I helped you out. Here's your bus card and a map. I wrote my number on the back, and all the details I gave you. Go get 'em"

"Thank you Terana. I hope one day to repay your kindness" He was about to turn away but he remembered that phone numbers were a two-way street. It would be a welcoming human gesture to give her his in return. Tearing off a corner of the map, he grabbed a pen from the counter and scribbled his number on it."

"Here is my number as well. I do not mean this as a flirtation. Thank you again"

He turned and walked down the aisle of the depot following signs for "Local Bus Stops". He found the stop for the 96, and in a few minutes a bus rolled in, smelling of diesel mixed with the damp and cool morning. He took a seat in the middle, clutching his duffel, and counted the stops until he hit the 4th stop. After that one, he hit the signal for 'next stop' just to make sure the driver knew he wanted to get off at the 5th stop. As he got off the bus, he realized Terana was right. This new neighborhood was not fancy by any means, everything was old and the stores were all still locked up with metal grates since it was early morning. But it had a warm feeling to it, like this is where humanity really happens. He turned around to look for the street that the motel should be on, and a few minutes later he stumbled upon the Lone Stardust motel.

Walking into the motel office, he was surprised by the warm smell of coffee mixed with the harsh smell of nail polish. Behind the desk, a plump older woman was painting her long nails, chatting on the phone with it crooked between her neck and her shoulder. The second she saw Cas walk through the door, she quickly hung up the phone and put down the nail polish.

"Oh sugar. You look a HOT MESS. How can I help you?"

"Uh.. are you Sharona? A kind woman named Terana told me to come here since I am on my own in a new place. I need somewhere to stay, do you happen to have any rooms open?"

"TERANA? Girl you are so lucky. What fortune you have running into that sweetheart. And damn, did she take care of you too sending you here. You're in good hands child. I have a room in the back corner, room 13. If you don't have the money don't worry yet. I can tell you are an honest boy. "

"Actually I uh, have this credit card… it should work to buy a few days at least"

"Alright shug, I'll charge out a week. Levi Jenkins is it? With a…. AARP senior credit card. Sheeet I won't tell. We all got our stuff. What is your real name child?"

Castiel paused a second, making sure he had his story straight about his name.

"Alex Casper. Like the… ghost. But my friends call me Cas"

"Well cassie, take a cup of coffee. I'll walk you to your room"

"Thank you Sharona. Terana did not lead me astray, you are a warm woman"

As she walked him to room 13, she chatted about how long she lived in San Antonio - 37 years actually. She asked where he was from, he went with Lawrence to be consistent. When they got to the room, she opened the door, handed him the keys, and said "Stay as long as you like. When you're ready to look for a job, get on your feet, just come let me know. I'm sure I can find something for you babydoll. "

He was still off-put by how kind these women were, but maybe somewhere Chuck was doing him a kindness. Sharona pulled him into a warm squishy hug, and let him get settled in. Finally alone in his room, with the morning sun finally high in the sky, he decided to shower off the smell of the bus and try to explore his surroundings.


End file.
